2011, Just Another Year?

Me by the end of 2010

Well it is that time of the year when you look back and perhaps recollect some of the best and not so best memories and reflect on occasions when you could have acted differently and sensibly and re-live those picture perfect moments that you would want to take to the grave.

For me 2011 was a teacher who was unforgiving, was the faint light on the horizon that gave hope, was a walk on the thin ice that I dreaded, was the scented breeze that caressed gently, was the beauty and mystery of an unheard language, was the sad song from a distant world, was the dew on the desert orchid and more than anything was a friend who gave a chance to look inside me.

Of all the things 2011 was, the most prominent one was distance; I had never been away from my family, but for most part of 2011 I was not in India, I was away in UK working towards becoming well, a workaholic. Every minute that passed by without seeing my parents and sister was like thousand years without breathing, the struggle to fight the urge to call it a day and go back to India, go back to my nest, go back to my ecosystem was immense. To make things worse when I was totally being consumed by my “missing my parents and sibling syndrome” I heard this song from rockstar “O naadaan parindey

ghar aa jaa..

ghar aa jaa..” 

2011, the year I spent the least time at home, the year I called my mum the most.

The year started with a trip back to India in early January when I had to spend most of my time in our Hyderabad office doing a KT to my offshore team and the trip followed an immediate fly back to UK. This time I had made a decision to stay alone in UK and was not having any room mates. What followed was one of the most difficult times in my life as at 2011 however the experience was enriching. Being alone gave me a chance to know what I was and what my preference was and how flexible or otherwise I was. I always thought I was never a social person and was more an introvert but from the time I started to stay alone I realised how socially dependent I was. Perhaps my mum would be happy to know I was not all that bad in housekeeping and had a pristine apartment throughout my lonely stay. Had experimented a lot in cooking and also developed a passion for writing.

Guys with the trophy

One very important thing to remember and revel ? Well it was the Indian conquest of ICC world cup in 2011. Indian team had shown a greater character throughout the series and made more than a billion people proud by bringing home the cup. Talking about cricket this was also the year when India toured England and got white washed, too bad this was also when I was in England and need less to say the locals had their bit of fun every time we lost a match.

From the Indian politics, the Great Indian fight against corruption by 'Team Anna' would certainly be remembered. By the end of 2011 when the parliament season was getting to a close the bill was successfully protected from passing by an orchestrated drama in the upper house.

On the way to the Isle of Wight

Team India Fans @ the MCG

The year certainly would go down as the year of travel in my books, had been to lot of places in England and one of the best was the visit to Isle of Wight. Had a wonderful time in the Isle with some close buddies. My besty had come down to London from Ireland and we had a wonderful time in London when I visited Wimbledon for the second time with him. We had also been to Lords, the home of cricket. Later in December I travelled down south to Australia and started living in Melbourne on a working holiday. This would also be the year when I visited two of the most prestigious cricketing venues around the world, one being Lords and the other being Melbourne Cricket Ground where I watched the boxing day test.

Me in Lords

Steve

2011 saw the death of Steve Jobs the man who gave apple a place in history like Sir Issac. The year apple launched iPhone 4S, the year Siri was introduced to mankind, the year my besty tried having phone sex with Siri.

2011 was also the year I found myself loosing interest in several of my important daily catalysts like cricket, music, reading and eating. Was also the year I desperately tried clinging on to these small but important things to me. The year when I started to read the millennium trilogy and the fountain head. Lot of health issues struck me this year ranging from numbness in the legs, palpitation, sharp pain in shoulders, depression etc. The year when I had an appointment with a doctor in the northern hemisphere and in southern hemisphere. 

The year when Dhanush was regarded a national integration leader for penning the third most popular national song after Jana Gana Mana and Vande Mataram which sent the whole nation in Kolaveri and also made a proud parent name her newly born “Kolaveri. D”

Well 2011 was: 

• The year I spent more time in office, on the internet and on calls with mum 
• The year I uploaded a Youtube video of me cooking an eggplant curry 
• The year I fell sick more often 
• The year I spent more than 40 hours on the air
• The year I tried to become a vegan 
• The year I had most Facebook 'Likes' 
• The year I was on both the sides of equator 
• The year I bought my first blazer 
• The year I was in Trafalgar square, Federation Square and Anna Square

Oh I can see the horizon glittering with the fireworks and people are getting ready to welcome 2012, adios 2011 and thanks for being there.

Well hello 2012!!!!!!!

Dawn of 2012 @ Federation Square - Melbourne

Three days of mom and dad just won't do

Started to chennai amidst of sizeable mental pressure due my obsessive compulsive disorder or phobia to travel on Indian roads due to the uncourteous driving nature of the drivers. Anyway came home the next day to a cuppa from my momy's kitchen, I could just smell the aroma of love tightly packed in the cup.

The house was inundated with water slash slush in all directions thanks to the monsoon that battered the city raining not just cats and dogs but some more. Everytime my dad went out to get something so my mom could prepare the best delicacy all I could see was love not just 'regular' but 'extra large' twice.

Mom stayed home on sat but dad went to office. I certainly feel he must take it easy and start relaxing with lots and lots of books, he reads a lot and is capable of conversing for long hours on any topic. Just things dint work out for him on his writing endeavour. He has this project too close to his heart which he has been writing from god knows when, whenever he sees some scene in some movie he feels that all of his story is getting in to some movie in bits and pieces. He wants me to complete the book in English. I am sure I have it right on top of my to-do list, it surely doesn't deserve to be locked down in some termite feasting wardrobe.

He is really happy to have his ebook reader that is touch responsive, have loaded lots of classics for him to cherish. He was genuinely ecstatic when I told him it was capable of connecting to Internet over wifi and wanted me to have the wifi access enabled on the device which he then took and checked out a google page, hope he enjoys his reading life.

Not long after the coffee some 'steaming idlis' made their way to the dining room, before I write about the idlis, my dad introduced me to the expression 'steaming idli' :) now about the idlis, was there more? Oh yeah there were some freshly made murukku, my fav mango pickle, tamerind rice, appalam, podi, spl curd. My mom had unleashed her culinary prowess yet again.

I am really angry with her, I don't want her to retire but I need her to retire and give importance to her health, a diabetic also topped with some free flowing LDL doesn't really make me feel any better. Everytime I go away leaving her behind, my eyes forget how to stop tearing. I don't want to go away I want to be around her or I want her to be around me. She has protected me in her and only she can.

Felt like it was less than a minute and Saturday was making way to Sunday. I am expected to travel long in a weeks time and had to go shopping, was planning to go alone but my mom insisted that she come along and my dad wanted to join as well.

Sunday morning had this appointment with my doc to get an opinion on this palpitation and numbness that I developed while in England. Doc couldn't give his advice as he could not run any test given that I was traveling immediate. They both were so apologetic that I had developed this, but I am sure there is nothing to worry.

Next stop, palm grove, menaka restaurant has been one of our favourite family fine dining place. Had a negligible quantity of food for the price with which an elephant could have been fed. Had a good laugh on how no one could eat properly and the waiter had to tip us so we didn't waste food. A hearty walk to city centre really built the expectation in my mom and dad and when they stepped in they were not at all happy as the mall was nothing close to EA or Sky walk.Anyway my mom chose my first ever blazer no matter how fat and overflowing I was in the blazer my gazillion dollar babies couldn't stop adoring me.

After some more shopping it was time to leave to blr but packing has never been easy emotionally it just meant I won't be around my sweet hearts and I hate that moment.Took it easy and stayed back but couldn't get enuf of it my mom was busy again in the kitchen to ensure my stomach was full and my dad was busy getting things ready for my departure.

0040 hours Tuesday on my way back to blr sitting in an anonymous seat with some random fellow travellers , speaking to my iPod touching some random alphabets orchestrated by the tears rolling down my chubby cheeks.

Have lots to do, lots to say, lots to listen. Three days of mom and dad just won't do.

Sent from my iPod

Source of Love - Mother!!

25 years back, the world came to a stand still for a split second and nothing in this world or beyond seemed important or even worthy of it's existence for this special person.

Nine months of agony and discomfort over powered by the resolve to overcome the urge to get the thing out of the way pre-emptively. The tears of pain slipping away from the sides of the eyes instantly changing to tears of joy that thanked the almighty when she heard me cry for the first time.

I do not know what I meant in that cry, perhaps it was a sigh of relief that this special person would hold me in her hands for rest of my life, perhaps I was just thanking God for he gave me the most precious birthday gift ever, the first kiss from the most wonderful person of my life.

I was born and born was my MOTHER.

She took a crisp image of me with immense detailing not possible even from the best artist from the European renaissance and stored it somewhere in her mind or should I say heart? that only she can access and still sees me in the same way I looked like in that picture.

I want to write so much, but apparently my Mom and Dad get a little emotional when I write about them.

Mom, Dad and Akka you three are the most picturesque scene god painted in my life. Thanks for taking me in your life.

A special thanks to you Mom!! And a Happy Mother's Day!!!!!

With Love (hoping it is atleast a fraction of what you have towards me since I can never match yours)
Kiran



P.S.
eendra pozhudin peridhuvakkum thanmaganai
sandron enakaeta thai

To celebrate motherhood and as a gift to my mother on this mother's day I would be taking the educational expenses of a deserving girl child in class X in my school. I firmly believe that education is the only hope for a mother to know that her kid is indeed a “Sandron”.

Cook With Me - Egg Plant Pulusu/Kaara Kozhambu

The Real Life Story

I was enjoying the smooth surface and ran my hands down few more times appreciating the divine feel taking enough time before allowing the panic attack to set in. It was not smooth the day before, It meant the life has changed once and for all.

I always wanted to learn my guitar and play it in front of a huge audience, with a bandana branded with swastika in the centre around my hairs, falling freely on my shoulders. My rock star dream was totally shattered and the God had different plans, he gave me a one way ticket to BALDland. I was hoping like my couple of other blogs this would be a dream and I would wake up to find that I was still not bald was just balding, but I realised the game was over and I lost it fair and square.

When I was in my cricketing days, my sister used to tell me I would become like Sehwag and Gibbs. I used to wonder why she told that to me since I was a bowler and she knew it very well. Choices evolve and I chose to play tennis when I joined my current organisation and she was very prompt to call me up and tell that I would become like Agassi. Now I get a feeling that she always new what I would become perhaps she never meant me getting better in cricket or tennis and she was always having my receding hairline in her mind. Arrgghhhh...

It is a general practice to do some “course” during the summer vacation. I remember trying out my hand in Hindi one summer and for a series of summers I was busy cricketing and then I got busy with main stream education. After a very long time my Mom again asked me if I were interested to join a course and I was in my graduation second year and was little confused what course she was asking me to take, may be some computer course for my career. I said yes and she passed me the news paper where there was an ad from NIIT, she was confidently saying “this one might help” and was pointing her finger on to the paper. I thought when did my Mom know so much about what is hot and what is not in the software industry. Then I followed her hand to see what she was pointing to, right next to NIIT there was an ad from Dr. Bakras with the legendary before and after pictures of some bald model and not so bald model. “I will fix the appointment”, she said and left the room.

I had one of the most scrutinising interview sessions with one of their senior doctors and after a thorough session she was happy to take me in to the course. Then I was called in by another doctor or more like a photographer who always took some before and during snaps throughout the course which went on for two years, I completed my engineering and the course with Dr Bakras at the same time and thanks to my engineering course I was recruited in one of the top notch IT company but there was not much happening as a result of the other course. After completing four semesters in my hair treatment and spending some big bucks I was once again called in for the photography session and after a couple of sessions the senior doctor met me again after two years, “we are completing the course today, would you like to take up the next course?”, what the hell was she thinking? Was she thinking she was offering me a seat in IIM A? “I am sorry I have not seen any positive results out of this, I do not want to go for the next course”, I said. She was prompt to reply “I can certainly cut a decent deal for the next course, but if you are still not convinced, Please collect your course completion certificate from the reception”. Two years was just a wasted endeavour. On the flipside I did have a good time in college because of this. I was an instant hit alongside another girl. I was the boy who went to Dr. Bakras and she was the girl who did a course with SLC for loosing you know what.

One day my dad came running in to my room with so much energy that I almost thought that India had won a match under the captaincy of Jammy. What he said next would remain in my mind for rest of my life. “I was speaking to a guy in the train from tambaram to kodambakkam, he shared a natural therapy for hair fall control. If a virgin cow that has given birth to a calf licks your head you would start seeing some progress.” my dad said. “What? I can not allow a cow to lick my head, btw how can a cow be virgin if it has already given birth to a calf?” I asked. “That's what would make the magic, it should be a surrogate cow”, he said, just when my servant maid said “Adhellam venam thambi, indha vengayam irukku illa, adha nadumana vetti, nadu mandaila theyi, apparam mudi eppdi valardhu nu paaru”. I had to run from the room to avoid any further suggestions.

Things went even bad in my sister's wedding, couple of guys perhaps in their late teens called me uncle. I couldn't do anything since they were from her in law's side. When I was deeply depressed about those guys calling me uncle I heard someone calling me brother which instantly cheered me only to be doused off immediately when I looked back there was a 60 year old grandpa struggling to find a place to sit and he called me brother. Only way out now is becoming a Sardarji.

It does not really hurt to be bald, what really hurts is when some one calls you “Sottai”.
One word of caution for all you fellas who are looking forward for every single opportunity to call us sottai, “Naan thani aalu illa”, we automatically become part of the United States of Baldland and we have the highest population than any other logical organisation and you people by default become an enemy of the state. We will hunt each and every one of you down and kick your @$$ a la Ross Geller.

Now where the hell did Harsha Bhogle go?

Live Dosa Corner!!

"Don't start to drool already”, I almost said aloud on my flight back to India after a short stopover at DXB when itemising on my iTouch just when the pilot put the flight on cruise and announced that it was legitimately safe to switch on the electronic gadgets as per the ATC regulations. I had listed down the TO DO things once reaching India and Dosa found its righteous place on the list and I must confess it appeared more than once on the list in varying formats ranging from Ghee to Ghee Podi with a few more variants in between. Well I couldn't really complain since I was not having nothing more than curd rice with or without pickle for a period of almost 8 months.

After a very short pit stop in my home sweet home I was again on board my flight from Chennai to Hyderabad. In no time the aircraft was on its final approach to Rajiv Gandhi International Airport and I was in the office campus trying to wade my way through a bunch of Urudu speaking Telugu people with an almost expired sodexho pass in one hand and I do not recall what I was carrying on the other hand. “One Podi hmm, nehi nehi aek butter masala dena”, the girl in front of me on the queue handed a 20 rupee note and took her coupon from the guy who was manning the counter. With the typical British accent thanks to my eight months of king's English in Britain I said “Haya, how are you today? Can I have one plain dosa please?” and placed the expiring sodexho on the counter. “Dosa kavala odha ra bhai” came the reply from the counter guy who obviously was not in a mood to appreciate my English or simply he did not understand what I said and my immediate response was “anna, oka plain dosa ivava” and the guy took just the enough time for the two girls behind me in the queue to giggle at me before giving me an yellow coupon that said Live Dosa and 15 underneath.

I walked the distance with unmistakable elegance of a best man, clasping the coupon with all five fingers and waving at people I never met like the seasoned fashion designer walking the runway with an anorexic super model. The queue stopped a couple of yards away from the counter where two guys were exhibiting nothing less than fine art in spreading fermented batter on hot plates which instantly transformed itself in to a golden jewel edible with or without a side dish. I was just praying to god that there should be enough batter in the vessel and just the enough LPG in the cylinder at least to cater the people in the queue and the engineer in me started to impact analyse the situation on how it would be if the queue algorithm changed from FIFO to LIFO since I was the last addition to the queue.

When the wait on the queue looked eternal a ray of hope just peaked for an instance when the guy standing in front of me left the queue only to join back with two more coupons. My mind volunteered to do a small bit of math with the available data – 1 dosa took around 45 seconds, 6 people ahead of me, two guys to prepare the dosa and the guy in front of me had three coupons assuming all others ordered just one it would be a total of 8 dosas meaning I had to wait for three minutes for my turn and three minutes and forty five seconds to taste the million dollar baby and it also meant the guy behind me had to wait the same time as me and that was redonkulously unfair.

As the clock ticked and the queue ahead diminished the noise from the general audience was overtaken by the sweet music of simmering dosas and exactly after three minutes of wait me and the guy behind me handed our coupons with the other guy adding an extra requirement “tel bina” and my mind wasted no time and blurted out “What a chick, dosa without oil?”

The guys at the counter wasted no time as if they had a 45s SLA and went back to the task.

With the nuance of an artiste the guys painted the batter on the tawa and the guy who took my order splashed a generous quantity of oil on my dosa and exactly after 45 seconds a crisp piece of art work as good as Prasoon Joshi's lyrics was transferred to a plate and the at next instance I was owning the masterpiece. I was holding the plate of dosa on my hand and I heard a girl calling out “Sir, sir” and I felt a hand on my shoulder “Sir”, I opened my eyes and the air hostess from some Eastern European country with a name plate 'Sophie' was pointing to the sticker in front of my seat that read 'Wake me up for food', “Break fast sir, fried tomatoes and baked beans”.She moved the trolley to the next row, perhaps she was offended when I asked “Dosa irukka?”.I was still on board flight from DXB to MAA.

Morning Raaga!!

Not long before I became someone who lost all the enthusiasm of life and started to live the so called 'hermetic' life, there was in me the element that I failed not to fall in love each and every moment. These days though I keep thinking of so many things, things which I have no control on, things that really drive me to a state of absolute breakdown which takes me weeks together to pull myself back in to single package and get my feet back on ground and before I gain any momentum I encounter one more blow on my mental state. A state of life without any drive whatsoever, experiencing weeks of insomnial nights, still hating to hear the morning alarm fearing the encounter of even friendly people, snoozing the alarm a million times before cursing the dawn of the new day not wanting to rise and shine like a normal person.
The only way as I figured to counter this emotional trauma is to systematically inject the lost enthusiasm in to my life. This blog is one such endeavor. Writing perhaps is a component of my blood. During the last couple of months when I have lovingly embraced the 'introversion' sort of life as noted by C.G.Jung I could not do anything than to helplessly see myself loose the battle against – well no one. I realized I had stopped doing so many things that I would have loved to do including writing. Well I am hoping to get myself out of the shackles of this 'something' that is sucking every atom of happiness into an eternally deep hollowness.
Looking forward for some serious blogging....Catch you soon!

Kiran Manyam